"Are you willing to be my heart's wife?" Andrew asks, hopefully.

"Yes, I am," Avery replies, "But only because your heart needs me."

"You need to make my heart happy then," Andrew says, "And if I touch you, he will be very happy."

"There are other ways to make the heart happy," Avery replies

"But making love can bring supreme happiness," Andrew says seductively, "Nothing can compare with it."

Avery wants to yell at him, but she's weak and exhausted and scared. She forces herself to take several deep breaths before she speaks.

"You can't touch me because the first three months are the most dangerous for a pregnant woman," she says calmly, "But if your heart still wants to fuck me after three months, I'll reconsider. If you or your heart is still interested in me—in spite of the pregnancy—I'll make love with you. How about that?"

Avery smiles seductively. She knows she'll never let him touch her. If she hasn't escaped in three months, she'll kill herself instead.

"I can't control my heart," Andrew says urgently, "I should follow my heart and give it what it needs. I can't wait."

"If I feel sad, your heart will be sad too," Avery warns him, "Besides, I know you're a man who likes a challenge. You don't want it to be too easy to seduce me, do you? If you wait, think how much better our first time together will be."

"If I refuse your request, what will you do?" Andrew challenges.

"I'm afraid that both my baby and I will die," Avery says coldly, "Mr. Clifford, you shouldn't force me to do anything. Take my word, and things will go well for you."

Andrew looks at her thoughtfully, and Avery smiles gently. Eager to change the topic before he can think of new arguments, she looks around the room for a clock. Upon seeing the time, she pushes the quilt away and stands determinedly.

"Have you had lunch yet?" she asks him, "It's already noon, and I'm hungry. Can we have lunch together?"

Though Avery hasn't eaten a proper meal in days, she doesn't feel hungry, but she knows she needs to get nutrition to her unborn baby. Andrew squints at her, but he doesn't deny her request. Instead, he leads her to the dining room.

The cooks have already prepared several nutritious dishes. The food is made light and healthy to help Andrew's recovering heart, but it's also ideal for a pregnant woman. Avery sits close to Andrew to make him happy—if he's content, it's easier for her to plan her escape in peace. Though Andrew wonders why she's so nice, he's too happy to worry about it.

She feeds him his food, peels an apple for him, and watches TV with him after their meal. She acts like a doting and attentive lover, and he seems to glow with joy. Suddenly, he holds her face between his hands and kisses her on the forehead. From a dark corner of the room, a camera films them and sends the video to Evan.

"I'm not nice to you," Avery glow, pulling away from Andrew, "I'm just taking care of your heart."

After lunch, Avery retreats to her bedroom. She rifles through her luggage and retrieves her mobile phone. She turns it on but gets an error message: no signal. With an exasperated sigh, she gets out of the bed and slips her feet into slippers. She hopes she can find a signal in some other part of the house.

Before she can leave the room, a group of women stops her at the door. Their perfume is so strong it makes her sneeze. She takes a hesitant step backward but regards them coldly.

"Can I help you with something?" she asks icily.

"No, but we can wherever we like," Ruby says, smiling a falsely sweet smile, "So you're Mr. Clifford's new lover? Well, you're not bad. Your face is maybe a five, and your chest is a solid eight. Your ass is a six, and I suppose your legs are tens."

Ruby glances at Avery's legs and hides her jealousy behind a judgmental glare. Avery's legs are long, slender, and perfectly proportioned, but Ruby's are rather short. Ruby looks up at Avery's face again and wants to scream. The other woman's skin is flawless and smooth, and her facial features are almost perfect.

"So, were you Mr. Clifford's lover before me?" Avery asks.

She is slightly taller than Ruby and looks down at the other woman as condescendingly as possible.

"Your face is a ten, and your chest is a seven," Avery says, eyeing Ruby, "As for your bottom, that's a six. I'd score your legs, but I can't seem to find them."

"You!" Ruby hisses, shaking with rage, "You shouldn't be so pleased. Mr. Clifford will tire of you soon, and then you'll learn your place."

Avery smiles serenely. It seems that the women at Andrew's house enjoy the drama of fighting over him.

"I'm not interested in Mr. Clifford," Avery says.

"How dare you?" screams one of the women, "You have no idea how lucky you are."

"I think you're full of it," Rub says, "If Mr. Clifford didn't like you, you'd be miserable. This confidence is just an act."

Soon the women begin arguing with each other. Their argument quickly turns to scream. Avery rubs her temples and gazes at them for a moment. Then she raises her hand and begins to point at them while counting aloud. The women pause and give each other confused looks.

"There are seven of them: one for every day of the week," Avery thinks, "If Andrew exhausts himself with them, he'll lose interest in me."

"What are you doing?" Ruby snaps, "Why are you counting us?"

"I was just noticing that there are seven of you," Avery says, "Conveniently, there are seven days in a week."

"What do you mean by that?" the women ask.

"I can make an arrangement for you," Avery offers, feeling like a pimp, "Each of you has a chance to serve Mr. Clifford exclusively for one day. What do you think?"

The women exchange suspicious glances.

"Why do you want to help us?" Ruby demands, "What's your purpose?"

"Because I'm pregnant," Avery answers simply.

The smell of their perfume is giving her a throbbing headache, and she has no interest in theatrics. Nonetheless, the women all widen their eyes in shock and gasp dramatically.

"If you have any doubts about whether or not I'm pregnant, you can ask the doctor," Avery says as soon as they've stopped screaming, "My pregnancy makes it impossible for me to serve Mr. Clifford, but as you know, Mr. Clifford has a strong desire."

Avery doesn't need to explain more. All of the women know about Andrew's desires. Some of them are beginning to nod their heads in agreement.

"If you are willing to serve him, I will persuade him to promise that you can serve him in turns," Avery offers.

"Why should we believe you?" Ruby asks.

"It's a risk-free arrangement for you," Avery says, "In the end, Mr. Clifford's happiness is my responsibility."

The women whisper among themselves. Eventually, they agree to Avery's proposal.

"In order for this to work, you need to change something," Avery says as if the idea is an afterthought.

"You mean we should change the ways we make love?" asks one of the women.

"No, I mean the decoration and atmosphere," Avery says.

"Oh, I get it," says one, "You think we should wear sexier clothes."

"I've already tried that," complains another, "But it's useless."

"Yeah, ever since Mr. Clifford had the operation, he hasn't touched us," chimes another.

Before they can begin arguing again, Avery clears her throat loudly.

"I'll solve these problems, but I need to buy some new clothes and cosmetics to do it," she announces.

She's hoping she can use the women to get out of the house.